


Bounty Hunter Hale

by Captain_Loki



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Banter, Bottom!Stiles, Bounty Hunter, First Time, Flirting, Humor, M/M, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:07:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Loki/pseuds/Captain_Loki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Stiles had endured the grumbling ‘bounty hunters’ rant from his father for about a decade. In a show of solidarity he shared his father’s less than favorable opinion of them, and maybe it was just the fact that Batman was ranked only second to his father as childhood hero, but he tended to agree that justice should be an end in and of itself.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>This rather noble sentiment of Stiles’ was, however, flushed immediately down the proverbial toilet when, one afternoon, Stiles caught sight of the two hundred pounds of the pure muscle and leather that was Derek Hale. </i></p><p> </p><p>Much flirting and harrowing investigations ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bounty Hunter Hale

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, this was inspired by [this](http://captain-snark.tumblr.com/post/48236423384/fruscianted-fave-teen-wolf-screencaps) edit and some fangirling between myself and tumblr user [halesparkles](http://halesparkles.tumblr.com) In which we decided bounty hunter hale would begrudgingly find Stiles irritating and irresistible.
> 
> This partially contains underage (they wait until Stiles' is eighteen to actually have sex) but Stiles lies and says he's legal so there's some slight humorously played dishonesty beforehand. 
> 
> Also, part of the plot was taken from an episode of 21 jumpstreet...no I can't even tell you why...
> 
> Lastly, I didn't know if the Carver twins' characters had last names so I named them 'Carver' because...well why tax myself creatively?

Stiles had endured the grumbling ‘bounty hunters’ rant from his father for about a decade. In a show of solidarity he shared his father’s less than favorable opinion of them, and maybe it was just the fact that Batman was ranked only second to his father as childhood hero, but he tended to agree that justice should be an end in and of itself.

This rather noble sentiment of Stiles’ was, however, flushed immediately down the proverbial toilet when, one afternoon, having dropped off his father’s lunch, a kerfuffle took place at the front of the station, and peering around the edge of his father’s office door, Stiles caught sight of two hundred pounds of pure muscle and leather.

Stiles will swear with his dying breath that there was actual slow motion happening, but it might have just been the two red bulls he’d downed before arriving. He watched as his father greeted the man with thinly veiled irritation, bit out a sharp, “Hale,” in greeting before he began booking the suspect Hale had in a tight grip, arms zip tied behind his back.

When his father took the suspect off Hale’s hands he reached up and tugged his aviators off, hung them in the front of his v-neck, shirt tugging down slightly to reveal the soft curls of chest hair and Stiles let out an involuntary sound of pleasure. Hale looked up, glanced over and caught his eye, Stiles straightened and stepped out from his father’s office. “Uh hi,” he said, smiling wide and nodding his head in Hale’s direction.

“Hey,” Hale responded and he leaned his elbow against the countertop in front of him and grinned, and _fuck_ his dimples were like caverns they were carved so deep into his stupidly perfect face, all high sharp cheek bones and soft rugged stubble and a fucking little dip in his chin Stiles thought looked perfectly shaped to the pad of his index finger, itching to test the theory.

“I’m—“ Stiles started before he caught his father’s glare.

“Go wait in my office, Stiles,” he said sharply.

“Right…course, bye,” Stiles _simpered_ , bumping into the door frame before tumbling out of sight. He could hear a soft chuckling in his wake.

Stiles managed to sneak another glance before Hale left the station, and fucking damn how did he even manage to _move_ in those jeans let alone chase down suspects. His father pushed him further into the office as he returned giving him an exaggerated eye roll at the look Stiles knew must be plastered to his face.

“Who was that?” He asked, and his father looked like he was debating before he said, “Derek Hale…bounty hunter.”

“I didn’t know they made them like that,” Stiles said and his father tipped his head back and sighed, staring up at the ceiling as though searching for help.

“He’s no more than a…privately hired _criminal_ ,” the Sheriff tried.

“More like privately hired hottie,” Stiles started.

“Stiles!”

“What? Did you see those jeans?”

“Stiles, they work outside the law--”

“Yeah, the laws of physics, maybe, how does he even manage—“

“Stiles!” The Sheriff snapped, and Stiles looked up finally, eyes wide and contrite. “Go home.”

“Yes sir!” Stiles gave his father a final salute and grabbed his backpack and bid a hasty retreat.

 

Stiles wouldn’t say he grew obsessed with Derek Hale, so much as he was enthusiastically intrigued, he did however, have to admit he spent way more time than usual hanging around the Sheriff’s station, in the mornings before school, in the afternoons after lacrosse practice, in the evenings bringing his father meals like a kind and doting son.

“Stiles get out of here,” the Sheriff said, one such evening when Stiles was lingering by the large windows overlooking Main Street, peering through the blinds in a way that was making passersby flit away nervously.

“I’m just trying to spend time with you!” Stiles argued, insulted.

“Yeah,” the Sheriff scoffed, “look me in the eye and say that and I’ll never eat another slice of bacon again.” Stiles stared at him, open mouthed.

“I’ll go.”

But Stiles wouldn’t have to wait long before he saw Derek Hale again, about eight days to be precise and Stiles was idling in his parking space at the strip mall across town, shooting a text off to Scott to see if he wanted to play video games later. He heard an angry shout and looked up, heart skipping a beat as he saw him, void this time of his leather jacket, in nothing but a soft, muted blue henley that hugged every broad muscle of his chest and hung loose around his stomach, straining at the biceps and showing off broad shoulders.

Stiles barely noticed the guy he was chasing until he was right in front of the jeep, flying past. Stiles didn’t really think twice about it before he flung his door open, the man unable to do anything but slam into it at full force, legs knocked right out from under him as he went down hard onto the pavement of the road below him.

Stiles let out a whoop, unbuckled himself hastily and jumped out of the car, nearly tripping over the man writhing on the ground. His eyes widened as he looked up, Derek slowing to a brisk pace, barely out of breath as he stopped by Stiles’ open door.

“Dude!” Stiles shouted, “I just owned that guy, did you see that?” He asked excitedly.

“Yes,” Derek said, taking a breath and grinning, stooping low to pick the guy, groaning and clutching at his stomach, up off the ground. “Thanks, but I almost had him.”

“No way,” Stiles argued, shaking his head and laughing. “I basically just did your job for you,” he nodded. Derek raised his eyebrows up over the ridge of his aviators.

“Not sure I’d go that far…Stiles right?” He asked giving Stiles a once over, placing him, “you were at the station last week.”

“Yeah, you remembered,” Stiles said, trying to keep his voice from betraying how pleased he was by this bit of information. Stiles was pretty sure he was failing if the look Derek was giving him was anything to go by.

“Hard to forget a face like that,” Derek said, smirking, manhandling the guy back down the street. Stiles pushed the jeep door shut and followed.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, hand coming up to rub at the back of his head. Derek threw another grin at him over his shoulder and stopped by the passenger’s side of a shiny black Camaro parked on the side of the road. The guy gave them both a dazed, disgruntled sort of look as Derek shoved him into the car, slamming the door in his face.

“So, how long did it take you to track this guy down?” Stiles asked, leaning against the hood. Derek crossed his arms over his chest and Stiles watched with as much subtlety as he could muster, which was to say, none.

“About a five days,” Derek told him, gauging his reaction. Stiles let out a low whistle and shook his head. “Took me three to find you,” he lied, quirking a brow. Derek smirked.

“Wasn’t hiding,” he pointed out and Stiles shrugged. “So, you’re what, Stiles the Teenage Bounty Hunter? Stalking the seedy criminal underbelly in between calculus homework and uh…” he gazed at Stiles’ BHU hoodie, “lacrosse practice?”

“I fancy myself more of a booty hunter,” Stiles admitted. Derek snorted and shifted on his feet.

“A booty hunter?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, seriously, “and I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I’m gonna have to haul that ass in for questioning,” Stiles said, motioning towards Derek’s. A wide grin split Derek’s face and he uncrossed his arms, regarded Stiles with open want.

“On what grounds?” He asked, playing.

“Ground of my bedroom comes to mind,” Stiles answered, shrugging. Derek nodded, bit down softly on the tip of his tongue and gave him a lopsided grin.

“And what about that,” He asked, gesturing to Stiles who turned slightly and grabbed his own ass.

“This? I have a permit for this.”

“Yeah, can I see it?” Derek asked.

“My ass or the permit?” Stiles questioned, but Derek just grinned.

“Oh my God, just take me to the station already!” Came the muffled angry grunt from the front seat of the Camaro. Derek flashed the guy an angry gaze and he quelled.

“So, am I going to get part of that bounty?” Stiles asked and Derek quirked a brow. “Hey, I was an integral part of this take down,” Stiles argued. Derek gave him a considering sort of look and smirked.

“How about this,” he said. “I give you a cut…” and he looked at Stiles now, caught his gaze and Stiles flushed heavily beneath it. “If you use it to buy me dinner.” Stiles grinned wildly and licked over his bottom lip trying to contain it.

“Yeah, yeah I could do that,” he nodded.

“Hey, Stiles,” Stiles stopped halfway to his car and turned back, “how old are you?” He flashed a smile and said, “your lucky day, Hale, I’m legal,” before turning back and heading for the jeep.

 

 

Stiles waited for a night he was sure his father was taking a late shift before he accepted Derek’s invitation. He showed up outside the house promptly at seven wearing a pair of beautifully fitted jeans and an olive green v-neck beneath a dark jacket. Stiles’ ‘nice’ wardrobe consisted only of a dark blue button down shirt and a pair of brown corduroys and the least scuffed pair of sneakers he owned. It fit pretty nice across the chest and showed off how much playing lacrosse had paid off over the years, so he was pretty satisfied with the end result. If the way Derek’s eye roved slowly over him as he held the Camaro’s door open for Stiles was any indication of his own approval, he figured he’d call this one a success.

The restaurant Derek took him too was nicer than anything Stiles had ever been to on a date, which wasn’t saying much, it was hard not to outdo the Chili’s on main street or the seedy theater on the edge of town. It wasn’t valet service levels of fancy but there were no screaming children and the walls were bare of kitschy decorations and television screens.

They sat at a small, intimate booth in the bar area, Derek ordered a beer and Stiles grinned up at their waitress and did the same, but she merely lifted a brow and Stiles huffed out in indignation, “fine a coke.” Derek smirked at him, and Stiles told him to shut up, hiding his face behind a menu.

Dinner was, in a word, awesome. The food was awesome, Derek’s eyes in the flickering candlelight was awesome, the fact that they ended up playing footsie twice beneath the table was awesome, even Stiles was pretty damn awesome.

The only _slightly_ unfortunate part was where Derek had assumed, incorrectly, that Stiles, was in fact, a student at Beacon Hills University. “Oh—I…yeah,” Stiles nodded, agreeing, remembering with an inward grimace the hoodie he had been wearing that day. “Yeah, classes are great.”

Which is how he ended up spending a portion of the evening talking about a fictional course load he had where he was on a path towards majoring in criminology while interning at the BHPD. It wasn’t entirely a lie, Stiles _was_ planning on doing all of those things, and he spent enough time helping his dad out on cases that he figured he _should_ be getting some kind of stipend at this point.

They swapped stories about cases and Derek confessed to pursuing interest in making the switch to private investigating. “We should go into business together, I can be the brains you can be the brawn,” Stiles told him.

“Should I be insulted by that?” Derek asked, brows flitting together.

 

Stiles and Derek’s evening only ended when the restaurant had been officially closed for half an hour. The busboys had finished cleaning all but the booth the two were still seated at, empty plate of raspberry cheesecake and two abandoned forks between them. Derek paid the check, though Stiles made a valiant effort to do so, Derek smirking at him as they left saying, “I’m sure you’ll think of an appropriate thank you.”

“Hey,” Stiles said, “maybe I’m not that kind of boy.” Derek lifted a brow and unlocked the car, opening the door for Stiles who gave him a sloppy kind of smirk and climbed inside. “Don’t think I can be bought buy a good meal. Even if that was, like, the best burger I think I’ve ever eaten,” and Derek hummed his agreement. “Ugh, and those fries, they sprinkled rosemary on them, fuck those were good fries…okay yeah you’re right that was probably worth at least a handjob.”

“There was also the cheesecake,” Derek pointed out.

“So what, like a blowjob?” Stiles asked and Derek huffed out a laugh, “it’s late, I should get you home.”

“It’s not even midnight,” Stiles argued, but Derek drove him home anyway. Stiles was incredibly grateful for the empty drive they were met with, wasn’t sure how to explain a police cruiser parked there if his dad had made it home early.

Derek threw the car into park and turned to Stiles, who unclipped his seatbelt as Derek did. “Tonight was awesome, and also totally worth the crack in the panel of the jeep’s driver’s side door,” Stiles nodded. Derek gave him a light smile and moved for the door handle.

“Wait,” Stiles insisted, leaning forward and grabbing his wrist. “If you walk me to the door that means the date is over, and if the date is over who knows what’ll happen… you could totally blow me off, never call,” Stiles said. Derek regarded him carefully.

“I’m going to call,” he insisted.

“Yeah but what if an asteroid hits the earth before then, or you die tragically on the job or—“ and Derek hauled him in for a kiss, their noses bumping slightly and Stiles grinning unabashedly into it. It started off insistent, grew more so as Stiles climbed awkwardly across the console and landed in Derek’s lap. He gripped Derek’s cheeks in both hands, “fuck I knew your facial hair would be soft, like petting a puppy,” Stiles groaned and Derek laughed against his mouth and gripped him by the hips, ground up against Stiles.

They were frotting in the front seat of Derek’s Camaro before he pushed Stiles away and gasped out, “you have neighbors,” like Stiles actually cared.

“Fuck the neighbors,” Stiles proved, bending low to suck at Derek’s neck and Derek moaned high and breathy, “I don’t think I have that kind of stamina.”

Stiles laughed and pulled back, kissed Derek twice more before climbing back into the passenger’s seat, “fine, but I’m planning on jerking off thinking about you when I get inside so I hope that thought plagues you for the rest of the evening,” and he pushed the door to the Camaro open, Derek rolled the window down and yelled out to his retreating back, “you and I have very different definitions of the word plaguing’!”

“Call me!” Stiles yelled, shoving his key into the front door and pushing it open.

 

Derek didn’t end up calling for the rest of the weekend, but Stiles wasn’t exactly worried, he was still pretty much convinced he was going to get laid soon. That was of course, until he walked into third period English Monday morning talking animatedly to Scott and turned to see Derek Hale staring at him, open mouthed, from the front of the room.

Stiles jerked forward and back, feet uncertain where they wanted to go and he tripped over Greenberg’s backpack in the back row and fell into a sprawl on the floor. “Dude,” Scott said, picking him up off the floor and staring at him.

“Uh…” Stiles replied, looking back and forth between the door and Derek. He considered making a break for it but then the bell was ringing and Derek was pointing to the two last remaining seats at the front of the room and saying, “sit.” Stiles took the seat furthest in front of the teacher’s desk and smiled encouragingly at Derek who was looking pointedly away.

“Your teacher couldn’t be here today, so you guys get me,” Derek replied, “My name’s Mr. Hale,” he gestured to the neat script on the blackboard and Stiles stared at it in open fascination. He had penmanship like a Disney Princess. Derek sat at the edge of the desk and looked around the room, eyes catching on Stiles who slouched slightly and spread his legs. Stiles thought he might be able to talk his way out of this situation when Derek’s eyes narrowed straight to Stiles’ crotch the way he’d intended, flush creeping up the back of his neck.

He was pretty sure he could talk his way out of it until Derek cleared his throat and took out the attendance book.

The book with everyone’s names.

The first ones and the last ones.

And sure enough Derek made it down to the S’s and stuttered to a stop. Stiles could see the moment he was royally screwed, Derek’s perfect eyebrows drawing together in a straight harsh line, staring at the sheet in disbelief.

“Stilinski…” Stiles considered not answering, gave a quick glance around the room like he was waiting. Scott betrayed him with a look and Derek glanced at him.

“Present?” He decided at last, when the pause had grown awkward. He offered Derek a wide appeasing smile. Derek looked like he was struggling with a vicious internal battle.

English was torture. English was usually torture and everyone else was delighted with the current situation, especially the three girls in the row behind Stiles who nearly wept when Derek bent over to pick up a pencil that “mysteriously” fell to the floor, two feet away from where it had been before.

Stiles scribbled out a quick note and tossed it onto the front desk when Derek turned around, noticing the looks on the faces in front of him. Derek politely offered the pencil back before stalking over to the desk and unfurling the note, Scott giving him a confused look before staring back and forth between them.

Derek’s brows flitted together, eyes darting over the words before he stared with open disbelief at Stiles, who gave him a cheeky grin and rested his hands on his palms, elbows resting on the desk.

“See me after class, Stilinski,” Derek said, before snapping his mouth shut, pursing his lips together in a frown, Stiles could see how hard he was trying (and failing) not to show his obvious amusement, hand moving up to press against his mouth as he took a seat at the desk.

**_‘By the power vested in me as official Booty Hunter of Beacon Hills I’m gonna have to ask you to back dat ass up’_ **

The rest of the lesson passed slowly and relatively uneventfully. Stiles kept trying to capture Derek’s attention by stripping off his outer layers until he was in just a tight t-shirt. Derek kept trying to pretend like he was completely uninterested. Finally the bell rang and everyone started packing up and filing out.

“I’ll uh, catch up with you later?” Stiles told Scott, waving off his offer to hang back. Stiles waited until the last students trickle out the door before approaching the desk.

Stiles waited for Derek to speak, it was a long moment before he asked, “so how’s college?”

“Well…” Stiles started, “you know…I…and you know _you_ ,” Stiles tried and gave up.

“Actually the less pressing of my concerns. The biggest being you’re a _Stilinski_.”

“Would you believe the namesake is just a coincidence?” Stiles asked.

“Uncle?” Stiles shook his head and offered an accompanying apologetic grimace. “Your father is Sheriff Stilinski.” It wasn’t a question.

“Kinda, mostly, yes,” he nodded.

“Perfect. Absolutely,” Derek replied, collapsing against the desk and sighing. “Oh God…we…and you were all…laps…” he covered his face with a hand and shook his head.

“Yeah well you never called!” Stiles tried.

“It’s been three days! I was going to call tonight!” Derek huffed.

“Oh. Well cool, I look forward to it,” and he turned around to head out the door.

“Stiles!”

“What are you even doing here anyway?” Stiles asked suspiciously. “Moonlighting for a little extra cash?”

“I’m…I’m working a case,” Derek admitted. Stiles perked up, perched on the edge of a desk. Derek raised a brow, but continued, “tracking down a guy for skipping bail. Wanted for grand theft auto,” Derek told him.

“So, what are you doing here?” Stiles asked.

“His nephew goes to school here, big into autoshop and I think there might be a connection with some other cars that have been lifted recently, and so does the insurance company; who hired me.”

“So you’re like, undercover?” Stiles asked, smirking, he let his legs fall open and Derek glanced down. “That’s so hot. Do you have sexy school teacher glasses too?” Stiles asked, pressing a heal to his groin.

“Absolutely not, Stiles,” Derek said, shaking his head.

“C’mon! I know you like me!” Stiles cried, hopping down off the desk and stalking towards Derek.

“Yeah, that was before, when you were in college and decidedly _not_ the high school son of the sheriff that…the sheriff.” Stiles rolled his eyes dramatically, “I’m taking mostly AP classes so that has to count for something?”

“No, Stiles.”

“Your mouth is saying no but you can’t hide in those dress pants,” Stiles smirked, pressing a hand to Derek’s thigh, his lips skirting at the corner of Derek’s mouth. “Did you like my note?” Stiles asked, and Derek turned to him, drew his head back slightly, but he was definitely smirking now and Stiles’ grin widened before he kissed him softly.

“Stiles, the door is open and I have class soon.” Stiles pulled away reluctantly, face flush.

“If you’re working a case, I can help,” Stiles said and Derek shook his head. “Aw, c’mon. Who’s the kid? I can totally infiltrate auto shop, gather intel, it’ll be awesome.” Derek stood, shook his head and moved to stand behind the desk, as though four feet of wood could deter Stiles.

“Alright fine, I’ll just tell my dad your hunch and he can investigate and then no money for you,” Stiles huffed. Derek gave him a look.

“Or better yet, _I’ll_ investigate myself while your old ass has to teach freshman the joy of Fitzgerald and then _I’ll_ solve the case myself and still no money for you. Or this fine ass which you were totally gonna get a piece of by the way, and it’s way sweeter than that raspberry cheesecake I can promise you that,” Stiles said, turning around and thrusting his hips out a bit.

Derek raised a brow, mouth twitching into a smirk as Stiles watched him over his shoulder. Derek closed his eyes, shook his head and sighed. It was a look Stiles was very used to and he clapped, “yes!”

“But we do this my way, alright? And your dad can’t find out.”

“Yeah because I was definitely planning on sharing this,” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Now can we make out before the bell rings?”

“Get to class.”

 

As it turned out, Stiles cannot in fact infiltrate shop class. For one, the shop teacher was quite suspicious of students randomly turning up midway through the term and declaring a sudden passion for mechanics. For another, Stiles had almost no working knowledge of cars and the hasty amount of Wikipedia searching he’d done at lunch was not actually at all helpful.

It did turn out, however, that he shared AP History with (suspect numero uno) Ethan Carver’s twin brother, Aiden. In a suspicious bit of good fortune, two days after Derek (reluctantly) declares Stiles his official colleague in crime solving, his class is given a group project. When Aiden glanced around the room in that awkward way teenagers have when they’re not good friends with anyone around them, Stiles smiled as shyly as he could muster and waved a bit from two seats over. Aiden smiled back friendly enough and Stiles rose to collapse in the seat next to him.

“Do me a solid and save me from literally everyone here?” Stiles asked and Aiden laughed, “Yeah, sure.”

“Want to meet in the library tomorrow after school?” Aiden asked, trying to establish plans. Stiles gave him a slight grimace, “uh…can we do it at your place? I ate a candy bar in the library once and Ms. Fitz has literally never left me unsupervised since,” he lied.

“Oh, yeah that’s cool.”

“Awesome, I can give you a ride?”

“That’d be great,” Aiden replied, and Stiles smiled warmly at him as the bell rang.

Oh yeah, Stilinski-Hale P.I, he was planning the business cards already.

 

He met Derek at the park that afternoon, Stiles insisted, it was all very deep throat, he only wished he had been able to convince Derek to meet him in the parking garage down the street from the grocery store.

“You’re the son of the Sheriff, Stiles, what makes you think you’re going to be able to get any kind of information out of him?” Derek asked, incredulous.

“C’mon haven’t you watched any episode of any show with a Sheriff, _ever_ , I’m like prime delinquent material here! Rebelling against my lawman father by stealing cars and sleeping with hot bounty hunters.”

“We haven’t slept together,” Derek pointed out, but he was smirking.

“Yeah and that’s a damn shame. We should totally do that. It’d really help me get into character,” Stiles argued. Derek rolled his eyes but he brought his arm up to thumb at the back of Stiles’ neck affectionately. Stiles definitely didn’t preen, but it was close.

“Besides I think his brother is batting for my team if you know what I mean,” Stiles said. Derek let his hand drop and raised an eyebrow. “So you’re what, going to seduce him?”

“You say that like you doubt my ability.”

“I’m just saying it’s unethical.”

“So’s grand theft auto…”

“Who says Aiden’s involved?” Derek asked.

“I think you’re just jealous,” Stiles accused and Derek scoffed. “Mr. ‘you’re too young and I’m old and decrepit’!”

“I definitely never said that last part.”

“Well you are, grandpa. And I’m so totally doing this.” Stiles decided.

“Alright, but you’re wearing a wire. And we need an actual plan.”

 

“Big Bad, this is Little Red, come in,” Stiles whispered into the pendant around his neck, sitting in his car the next day and waiting for Aiden to meet him.

“Little Red?” Derek’s voice came out over the piece in his ear, Stiles could hear the eye roll in it.

“Yeah, it’s a codename, Derek. I’m wearing a red hoodie.”

“Stop talking directly into the mic,” Derek instructed, “and stop using codenames.”

“Ugh, fine, _Derek_ the-far-less-cool. Ooh shit, here he comes!”

“You remember the plan?” Derek asked into his ear.

“Yea… _Big Bad_!” He huffed out before Aiden tugged the door open and with a wave.

“What?” Aiden asked, smiling, looking at him a little funny. Stiles shook his head and started the car, “nothing,” he laughed.

 

The absolute worst part of this plan was that it involved Stiles spending the afternoon actually doing his history project, which was probably eight times more boring for Derek having to sit in the car out on the street listening to it. Stiles was gratified slightly by this thought, served the stubborn ass right.

“God, remember when we were in middle school and we got to play Oregon Trails as like, legitimate school work,” Stiles huffed, annoyed, snapping his text book shut. Aiden laughed from the seat at the desk and nodded.

“Let’s raid the kitchen,” Aiden suggested and Stiles flung himself off the end of Aiden’s bed and let him lead the way back through the house. They were just in the middle of nuking a box of pizza rolls into soggy hellfire submission when Ethan appeared; phone tucked under one ear and ranting angrily to whoever was on the end.

“ _Could be his uncle_ ,” a voice whispered unnecessarily into his ear.

“Yeah, no shit,” he huffed towards his chest and Aiden looked over at him, but decided he’d just misheard him over the sound of the microwave beeping.

“So, your brother sounds upset?” Stiles commented, collapsing into a stool at the breakfast bar, Aiden popping the tab on two sodas and sliding one towards Stiles. Aiden shrugged and came around the other side to join him.

“Family stuff,” he said, evasively. Stiles burned himself on a pizza roll, and cursed, Aiden smirked at him.

“Thank you for your compassion,” Stiles huffed, smirking back, taking a swig of cold soda. Aiden just blew on his own pizza roll and grinned.

“The family stuff…” Stiles probed, “was it about Brian Carver?” Stiles asked.

“ _Wow, subtlety, Stiles_ ,” Derek said in his ear. Aiden gave him a suspicious sort of look and Stiles shoved another pizza roll into his mouth.

“Sorry, I just…I was at the station when he was brought in. The name sounded familiar but I didn’t make the connection until now,” Stiles said, and Aiden relaxed slightly.

“He’s my uncle,” Aiden replied.

“Ah,” Stiles nodded, not pushing.

“These are so paradoxically deliciously,” Stiles said instead. Aiden shot him a look. “Like, you know they’re shit, right, but they’re still so fucking good.”

“It’s like bad sex,” Aiden agreed. Stiles gave him a look, smirked as he popped another roll in his mouth. “Even bad sex is still sex.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Stiles said, coyly. Aiden quirked a brow at him. “Why, you’ve never had sex?” He asked. “You a virgin, Stiles?” He laughed, teasing.

“ _Yeah, Stiles, you a virgin_?” Derek asked in his ear, and Stiles could practically see his wide, shit-eating grin.

“I’ve just never had _bad_ sex.”

“Oh, so you’re just that good?” Aiden amended.

“I’m like a performance enhancing drug,” Stiles agreed. Aiden rolled his eyes but he was smiling, and he could hear Derek’s open laughter in his ear.

“You wanna go back to my room?” Aiden asked.

“For studying?” Stiles clarified, mock serious.

“Sure.”

But they ended up bumping into Ethan in the upstairs hallway and he gave Stiles a quick once over before ignoring him completely in favor of addressing his brother. “When’s he leaving?”

“I dunno, later?” Aiden said, giving Ethan a pointed sort of look.

“We have shit to do tonight so, make it quick.”

“I don’t do quick,” Stiles said, “I’m an engagement. It’s why I prefer people book in advance,” Stiles said. Ethan stared at him but Aiden ducked his head and smirked.

“No?” Stiles asked, shaking his head in Ethan’s direction. Stiles looked back and forth between them and decided to go for broke. “Well, if you’re looking for some help, I’m happy to lend my services,” he said, instead.

“ _Nice, nice just try to ease them into that conversation,_ _perfect_ ,” Derek said, a little sarcastic, mostly amused.

“Services?” Aiden asked.

“Help?” Ethan prompted.

“Family business? I’m assuming anyway. But…you, me, ass and all that, maybe I’m wrong, in which case, my apologies.” Ethan gave him an appraising sort of look.

“He was at the station when Uncle Brian was arrested,” Aiden explained.

“The station…where his father the Sheriff works,” Ethan pointed out.

“You pick up all the best tricks when you’re babysat by the petty criminals brought in to the BHPD,” Stiles laughed, which was actually perfectly true.

“Right.”

“Learned how to pick a lock when I was eight,” Stiles offered.

“Go you,” Ethan rolled his eyes.

“Wait, I remember that. You picked the lock for the art supply closet and covered yourself in elmer’s glue and convinced our substitute you had a horrible skin disease.”

 _“Did you seriously do that?”_ Came the voice in his ear. Stiles laughed, “Yup. That was still one of my better. I think I gave Shelly Peterson nightmares, I wasn’t allowed to play at her house after that.” Ethan gave him a begrudging sort of smirk but still looked completely unconvinced.

“I can break into and hotwire a car in under a minute, less than that if there’s an alarm and I’m particularly motivated,” Stiles offered. Ethan raised a brow, crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged, “prove it.”

 

So, he did. Or rather, so he and the twins waited until after nightfall and Stiles had them drive around until they reached the “perfect” car and Stiles proceeded to “break into” the one Derek had bought the day before for this exact situation. Stiles was pretty sure he could hotwire a car if he really wanted to, but it was much easier when everything was prepped and ready to go and all he had to do was make a good show of it.

He was pretty sure he’d done the job too because even Ethan looked feasibly impressed and it was much easier to wheedle information from them after that. He and Aiden got dropped off back at the Jeep and Ethan took off in the car, to what Stiles could only assume, was their chop shop (the BH autoshop being his number one suspect) but he couldn’t be positive at this point.

The next day when he matched serial numbers on parts of the car he’d ‘stolen’ when he and Aiden met Ethan in the shop for lunch he was pretty much convinced, however. Stiles met Derek in the teacher’s lounge after it had emptied and he was left alone sipping coffee at one of the small tables in the corner.

“Hey sexy,” he said by way of greeting, collapsing into the chair beside him.

“You’re not allowed in here,” Derek said, not looking up over the magazine resting against his knee.

“I have important information, Big Bad,” Derek gave him a look and Stiles smirked. “We should meet later, exchange notes, big break,” Stiles nodded.

“I’ll text you the address to my loft, meet me at seven,” Derek decided, sparing Stiles a glance.

“Gonna wine and dine me first?” Stiles asked, moving closer.

“It’s a business meeting,” Derek told him, watching him.

“Hmm right, so…casual attire then?” Stiles wondered aloud, standing. He started backing up towards the door. “T-shirt and jeans kinda vibe, underwear optional?” Derek opened his mouth to say something but Stiles’ physics teacher pushed the door open and yelled at Stiles to get out, so he left, grinning widely at Derek’s flushed face.

 

Plot twist: Stiles wasn’t, in fact, wearing underwear when he showed up to Derek’s loft that evening. He whistled out a low note when Derek pulled open the large, metal door to the place and let Stiles move past him into the loft.

“Okay, something really tells me you’re not in it for the money,” Stiles observed. He looked over at Derek, who shrugged. “My family is loaded.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said staring around the space, taking in the high ceilings and the dark wood floors, the spiral staircase at the edge of the room winding its way up to the loft space above.

“I ordered Chinese,” Derek informed him, waving him over to the spot in front of the couch, the coffee table pushed out of the way and pillows tossed haphazardly across the floor. Stiles noticed Derek, really, for the first time, wearing a soft looking t-shirt and a pair of worn denim jeans, barefoot. Stiles collapsed onto the floor, crossed his legs and tugged his hoodie off. Stiles pretended not to notice the way Derek was watching, smiled inwardly as he relaxed back against the front of the couch.

They ate takeout and went over what they knew so far. Stiles shared his confirmed suspicions that they were using the auto shop at the High school to take the cars apart. “But like…to what end?” Stiles wondered and Derek pulled a folder towards him and tossed it into Stiles’ lap.

“I figured that out,” Derek replied.

“Aw, aren’t you clever,” Stiles beamed and Derek pinched him on the arm as Stiles swiped at him with a chopstick. “Apparently they put the frame of the car back out on the street and they end up at Insurance auctions, their Uncle was buying them for the boys to put back together with the parts they already had.”

“Fuck, that’s ingenious.”

“And illegal,” Derek pointed out.

“All the best things are,” Stiles crooned, leaning in to Derek’s space and taking the bite from the chopsticks he had raised toward his mouth. Derek looked down at his crooked grin and Stiles laughed.

“C’mon, we solved the mystery,” Stiles said, “it’s time for the reward.”

“It’s time to get the evidence to prove it,” Derek insisted.

“Reward first,” Stiles tried. “You’ve never had dessert before dinner?” Stiles asked, turning where he was sitting to sprawl with his head in Derek’s lap, swiping at the underside of Derek’s chin like a playful cat. Derek stared down at him but didn’t stop him when Stile’s pulled him gently forward, until Derek was bending down to capture his lips in an upside down, sloppy kiss.

They stayed like that for a long while, until Derek straightened, and pulled a carton of low mein towards him, spilled with purposeful intent a few strand of noodles across Stiles’ face.

“Ow, that got in my eye,” Stiles huffed, sitting up straight.

“Sorry, messy eater.”

“That’s okay,” Stiles told him, sitting back and twirling a chopstick between his fingers, openly amused as Derek stared at the movement. “I am too,” he assured him.

“Yeah?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, I have a big mouth and no gag reflex,” Stiles admitted and Derek dropped the carton beside him, pushed Stiles back against the soft plush rug and settled himself over him, sucking bruising kisses into his neck, silencing Stiles’ punch drunk laughter with his mouth.

“You’re infuriating,” Derek griped, and Stiles let out a soft note of pleasure as Derek slid a leg between his and ground down.

“What happened to ‘this is a business meeting’?” Stiles asked, pleased.

“I’ll bill you,” Derek offered and Stiles laughed until Derek rolled off of him, he collapsed on the floor beside Stiles and huffed in frustration, “you really aren’t wearing underwear are you?”

 

In the end they decided to stake out the school’s auto shop. It was after nearly ten and they were sitting in the front seat of Derek’s Camaro, which was easily the most conspicuous car Stiles had ever been in.

“It’s dark,” Derek pointed out.” Stiles laughed but made no other remark. Stiles made it to quarter past before he declared stakeouts officially the most boring exercise ever.

“At least undercover work has the perks of snacks,” Stiles argued.

“We ate like an hour ago,” Derek commented.

“Yeah, but shouldn’t we have coffee and donuts for this? Even like a tic-tac or gum or something my mouth is dry,” Stiles huffed. Derek looked at him, and Stiles stared back, flicked his tongue out over his bottom lip and smirked when Derek’s gaze held.

“I can think of a few things to solve that problem,” Stiles said, and Derek snapped his eyes back towards the door to the shop.

“No.”

“C’mon!” Stiles huffed, “I graduate in like four months, dude! I’m just saying some kissing and a little heavy petting. We can keep it totally over the clothes and above the belt, just—“

“Did you hear that?” Derek asked, cutting him off.

“Yeah it was the deafening sound of my sexual frustration,” Stiles remarked.

“I think it came from inside.”

“We should check it out!” Stiles fist pumped. “C’mon, Ethan and Aiden don’t seem like they’re going to show up, or maybe they’re already here. I can totally break in, open the door, let you in?” Stiles suggested, going for the door handle.

“Um, no,” Derek laughed. “I’m not letting you break into the school, especially when we don’t know if it’s even empty.”

“Well, we need evidence, you said it yourself and, dude, _you_ can’t break in, but I totally can!”

“Yeah?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

“If I get caught it’s fine I’m still a min—“ Stiles started, and stopped. Derek closed his eyes and shook his head, “what?”

“My dad’s the sheriff?” Stiles amended instead.

“You’re not eighteen, are you?”

“Well…” Stiles pursed his lips and shrugged. “Nope. I lied.” He nodded, ducking out of the car before Derek could stop him, running for the side door of the school. Derek called after him in angry, hushed tones but he didn’t try to follow. He moved to pick the lock on the side door, but then Stiles saw there was a window on the first floor, already open, so he pulled himself up and in, collapsing in a heap on the floor of a science lab.

He made his way towards the auto shop at the end of the school, pushed open the side door facing out onto the parking lot where the Camaro was parked. Derek shoved him inside wordlessly. It was dark and quiet as they crept in, Ethan and Aiden nowhere to be seen. Stiles nodded his head towards the back wall, and whispered a little loud in the large space, “the stolen parts were over there when I was down here this afternoo— _mph_ ,” Stiles voice choked off in a grunt as something heavy collided with him and he went tumbling into the hood of one of the vehicles.

He turned around quickly, gave a surprised shout as a figure darted forward, swinging something heavy towards him, “Derek!” He called, flinging himself out of the way as a tire iron collided with where he had been moments ago. He saw Derek fly towards him, pummel into his attacker and wow Derek was good at the fighting, that was until the man, Stiles making a flying leap at it being Brian Carver, got in a good punch that sent Derek listing to the left.

“Fucker!” Stiles shouted, “Not the face!” And he pulled the stun gun he’d shoved in the back of his jeans earlier out, aimed, and pressed the trigger, business end clamping into Carver’s chest as he darted forward towards Derek again. He stopped, convulsed, jaw clamped tight on babbling noises of pain as he felt to the ground.

“Are you okay!?” Stiles shouted, ignoring the quivering mess that was Carver frying on the floor as he vaulted towards Derek. “Fuck I hope it wasn’t your teeth, I love your teeth they’re all big and cute!” Stiles moaned, pulling Derek’s face towards him.

“It was a cheek bone,” Derek informed him, “and what do you mean big?” He asked. Stiles kissed him softly, pressed a ginger fingertip to the bruise forming just beneath Derek’s eye, across his cheek.

“Thank you,” Stiles said, sincerely, “for you know, stopping him,” Stiles gestured.

“I owed you one,” Derek told him, swiping his thumb beneath Stiles chin. “Now, can you get a ride back to the Jeep? I need to take him in, unless of course you’d like to accompany me?”

“I’d like not to, actually,” Stiles said, pulling out his phone to call a very confused but agreeable Scott.

 

As it turned out, Stiles wasn’t lucky enough to avoid the Sheriff’s station. His father called him the next day, after school had been let out. “I need you to come down to the station, Stiles…” his father didn’t sound too pleased, and something told Stiles he wasn’t about to receive accommodations for his heroic actions.

Mostly, Aiden and Ethan had been taken into custody and decided giving up Stiles’ name would help their cause. “They’re telling me you stole cars with them,” his father said, staring at him with disappointment and confusion.

“I definitely didn’t steal any cars,” Stiles said. “And I only went with them one time, so that’s a bold face lie.”

“What does that mean, Stiles?” His father sighed.

“I had the full permission of the rightful owner of the vehicle to take it and let Ethan strip it for parts,” Stiles explained.

“And who was the owner of that vehicle?” But his father was looking at him like he was just looking for corroboration.

“Umm…”

“Go home Stiles.”

 

In the end, Derek got his bounty for bringing in Brian Carver, the full payment for solving the case for the insurance company, and Stiles’ virginity (which Stiles thought was a reward in and of itself), and he didn’t even have to spend any time in jail for involving the Sheriff’s underage son in his investigations.

But more on the virginity part, it was easily Stiles’ favorite part. Mostly, Derek spent the next two months giving and getting blue balls in an attempt to stave off the threat of angry law enforcement should he bone Stiles before his eighteenth. There was a fair amount of frottage, lots of kissing, and one memorable time where their naked chests were all up against each other, _bow chica wow wow_.

Finally, though, it was the day after Stiles turned eighteen and he and Derek were headed back to the loft after an evening out at the restaurant they’d had their first date. (They’d skipped dessert though, Derek suggesting if he was still hungry he’d let Stiles eat chocolate sauce off him and Stiles readily agreed).

They were already kissing deep and unhurriedly by the time they made it to the door of Derek’s loft. When they’d made it inside, Stiles gave him a coy look, “wait down here, give me like…ten minutes,” and booked it up the spiral staircase, leaving a confused, flushed Derek in his wake.

It was about the 9:58 minute mark when Derek climbed the stairs to the loft to find Stiles sitting on the edge of the bed. “I thought you’d be naked,” Derek said, though he didn’t sound disappointed.

“I was planning on it and then I found the jacket,” Stiles laughed. He was sitting at the foot of the bed in one of Derek’s t-shirts pulled low to cover himself up, though it curved obviously around his half hard cock. He was wearing Derek’s leather jacket and the aviators he’d found on the nightstand and nothing else.

Derek moved over to the dresser on the other side of the room and Stiles watched suspiciously. When he turned back he had a camera poised and Stiles laughed, flushed red but didn’t protest as Derek raised it to his face, “I’m blowing this one up and putting it over the tv.”

“Can’t wait for my dad to visit,” Stiles laughed and Derek snapped the photo.

“Strip!” Stiles laughed, excitedly, when Derek had deposited the camera back where he’d found it. Derek shook his head fondly and tugged at the buttons of his shirt, pulling it off and letting it fall to the floor. He wasn’t wearing an undershirt. He tugged open his belt, pulled it free, undid the fly of his jeans and pushed them down with his boxer briefs in one swoop.

Stiles leaned back on the bed, t-shirt riding up, cock bouncing against his stomach, red and flushed, hard. Derek smirked, stepped out of his pants and tugged his socks off, jumping onto the bed and draping himself over Stiles, who let out a happy surprised shout and let himself be smothered beneath Derek’s weight and mouth, nipping at all the expose skin he could find.

“So, how much of this bravado is false?” Derek asked then, shoving his hand beneath Stiles’ borrowed t-shirt, to pinch at his nipples. Stiles moaned softly and laughed. “All of it?” He smirked up at Derek, who gazed back at him, kissed him on the mouth.

“So you’ve never?” Derek asked.

“Not with another person, no,” Stiles admitted. “But I have a lot of toys…if you’re interested in a souvenir?” He laughed and Derek ducked his head to suck a hickie into his collarbone.

“Are you sure?” Derek asked, sitting up.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Stiles asked, serious. “I prepped for this,” Stiles said and Derek’s eyes clouded over, pupils blown. “Oh, and bit of friendly advice, it’s best not to impulse by at the pharmacy when you go in for condoms and saline enemas…I ended up remembering I needed index cards and duct tape and bought a water pistol on the way out,” Stiles said and Derek laughed against his stomach as he moved lower.

“I don’t know what the cashier thought, but I don’t think I can shop there again.” Derek laughed into the skin of his belly, tensing beneath the bite of his teeth. “I’m going to suck you off now,” Derek informed him, doing just that.

“I’m going to enjoy it,” Stiles informed him, and he did.

After, when Stiles was calm and sated, Derek stripped the last of his layers off, flipped him over, fingered Stiles open slowly and rimmed him until Stiles was writhing against the sheets and groaning incoherent facts about dolphins, because he needed to keep talking or he’d start laughing.

Derek only looked at him pleased though, Stiles figured he was doing something right. And then Derek was fucking him like he had money on it, Stiles spreading his legs as far as they’d go and clutching at the sheets like he was afraid of falling.

Derek’s hands were clutched at his shoulders and hips, huge and heavy as they manhandled Stiles, pulled him back onto his cock. “Fuck yeah, dude,” Stiles huffed, pleased, picked up the aviators from where Derek had dropped them in the sheets and put them back on, pushed Derek over before riding him like a carnival coaster.

Stiles came twice that evening and once the next morning over pancakes, not literally, but it was close. Derek let Stiles blow him in the shower, two fingers deep.

“You know, my dad let me try espresso once, when I was like eleven, cos he thought I’d hate it…” Stiles told Derek, one afternoon, about three weeks and too many orgasms to count later. Derek just looked at him, playing with the hair he was staring to grow out. “I got kind of addicted,” Stiles said, “and sex is like…way better than espresso.”

“Yeah,” Derek agreed.

“I meant I hope you have a good heart and are plenty virile cos I’m obsessed with you putting it in me, is what I’m saying,” Stiles said.

“I’d noticed,” Derek informed him.

“I mean I’m considering getting a job just so I can afford the stock of lube we’re going to need,” Stiles said.

“I think I can afford lube.”

“I’m just saying, a LOT of sex,” Stiles said.

“I think I can keep up,” Derek told him.

 

Derek was wrong.

Stiles was, in a word, insatiable. And it only took a month into their relationship before Stiles begged Derek to pull off on the side of the road so they could fuck.

“But I’m going to _die_ ,” he cried, dramatically. “C’mon, I’m an actual official intern at the BHPD, you have to listen to me, I have the law on my side!” Stiles whined.

“I don’t think the law covers quickies on the side of the Beacon Hills back roads,” Derek pointed out.

“We could call and ask.”

“Stiles.”

“I’m commandeering your penis,” Stiles shouted, pointing his fingertip like a gun at Derek’s crotch. “It’s an emergency situation.”

“I thought you were the booty police?”

“That was ages ago, Derek. I’m training to be a P.I now,” Stiles informed him.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, a Penile Investigator,” Stiles said, seriously. “You need to pull over to the side of the road while I make a thorough inquiry.”

“Stiles—“ But Derek was laughing then, and Stiles could see his hand starting to tug the wheel to the right, as he pulled off on the shoulder at the side of the road.

“Yes!”

 

As it turned out, being a BHPD intern did _not_ cover quickies on the side of the Beacon Hills back roads.

Stiles and Derek were in adjacent jail cells when Stiles’ father came in to collect them. He stared back and for the between them, rolled his eyes dramatically and let them free.

“Dad, I can explain,” Stiles said. The Sheriff raised his brows, and Stiles exhaled dramatically, “I’m dating Derek Hale.”

“Wow, what a shocking revelation Stiles.”

“Wait you _knew_?” Stiles huffed, indignant. “For how long?” The Sheriff pretended to think about it.

“From the minute you both looked at each other the first time?” Stiles huffed again.

“We were being so subtle!” The Sheriff laughed in his face.

“And the only reason I’m not kicking both your asses, is I know he at least waited until you were eighteen.” Stiles gasped and looked back and forth between them.

“You were in cahoots!”

“I’ve known Derek since he was fourteen.” Stiles jaw dropped, “you mean…you’ve _approved_ of him this whole time! My whole world view is ruined!” He said, facetious. The Sheriff kicked Stiles’ on the ass as he made his way to the door.

“Go home Stiles.”

“Well, I never!”

“Make sure he gets there, Hale,” the Sheriff sighed and Stiles smirked at Derek over his shoulder as he nodded politely, before he chased Stiles through the station and out the front door.

 

 

(Stiles makes a giant priest uniform cut out for his photo above the TV for when his father visits)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
